


out east with the crows screaming murder murder

by hezenvengeance



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hezenvengeance/pseuds/hezenvengeance
Summary: a tale of users and people who lie (mostly to themselves)





	1. i'm taking a ride with my best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an invasion goes wrong. mae's cut up about it, for the wrong reasons.

It’s a Gambit Prime day for Fireteam Anisedora, and the playing field is about even; they’re matched for motes, even as Arin throws another giant blocker through to the other side, Sena bowling through their adversaries with practiced ease. Nascia and Mae make short work of a Taken Knight that had slipped through their assault, and Mae banks a handful of motes to push them over the first bar; the invasion portal lights up and Mae only stops to pick up heavy ammunition before leaping through. The heft of 21% Delirium feels excellent in her hands, and she makes a mental note to tell Drifter all about it as she shreds her way through three of their opponents, Drifter crowing in her ear. She moves fast, clambering through the windows of a blown out building to chase down the last one standing - a warlock.

They’re in super; Stormcaller, Mae lines them up in her sights, closes her finger around the trigger; the warlock drops, and if Delirium’s bullets spray just a little further she doesn’t notice, barely registers the wash of Light from her opponents corpse, mistakes a scream of anguish for fury as she’s transmatted back to Anisedora’s side of the field, reorientates and launches herself into the swath of Vex forming amongst the trees.

The match continues, and it’s not till Arin goes to push through their third centurion that Nascia clamps a hand on her shoulder, urging the hunter to wait. The seconds tick by; Sena floats up from the beach, the green serpents coiling round her boots spattered with radiolaria and sand, shaking off stray tangles of arc energy and carrying the motes Arin missed; Mae gets the sense her optics are flicking between her teammates as the Fireteam crowds the bank, waiting for… something.

Sena is first to break the silence.

“Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on down here, but don’t we got a big boy to be pullin’ up?”

Arin folds her arms, white snakes shimmering. “Yeah Nessy, what’s the hold up?”

Nascia puts her hand on the bank - the light casts strange shadows across her Sentry armour - and quietly speaks: “There have been no blockers sent. I have been watching their count of motes, and it has not risen since you last invaded. Something is wrong.”

Mae scoffs, hefting Delirium over her shoulder and turning towards the invasion portal. “Who cares. Maybe they got wise and gave up. I don’t give a shit, I’ve got a match to win.”

Arin starts pacing. “Nah, I think she’s right. They were so aggressive before, why stop now? Something must of happened.”

“Maybe one of Drift’s primevals broke the leash. Shady bastard don’t seem smart enough to keep the damn things locked up too tight,” Sena drawls, and Mae can practically see her rolling her eyes behind her mask. The nightstalker scoffs.

“Look, it’s not like we can do anything till we finish up. Drifter’s not gonna stop the match just cus some dumbass Titan took a bullet too hard to the head. Get banked, _then_ we can figure out who’s ass I need to beat for holding us up like this in the first place.”

Mae gets the sense that Nascia’s not convinced; she doesn’t move, just turns to level the hunter with a gaze she knows would pierce into her damn soul if not for the mask. Mae opens her mouth to argue her point further, bristling, till the familiar sound of motes banking silences her; Sena pokes her head around from the other side of the bank, looking about as nonplussed as a helmeted Exo can.

“What? Y’all were yappin’ away and god dammit, if I don’t get the greasy little man outta my earhole right now I’m gonna start breakin’ stuff. Bank your damn motes, Arin, we’ll figure it out back on the ground, alright?”

No-one argues. Arin sends her motes off with no small amount of apprehension, and they tear apart their primeval without a hint of resistance. Drifter announces their victory but it sounds subdued, restrained, no hint of his usual revelry; at that, a gnawing anxiety finally starts to form in the base of her gut but Mae ignores it - what’s she got to be anxious about? They’re just sore losers. “Can’t handle the heat stay out of the damn fire pit,” Mae mutters to herself as they depart the Derelict. The glowing red of her armour casts the EDZ dropzone the colour of blood till her other teammates appear, pinpricks of light in the darkness.

The opposing fireteam drops in a flash of blue light, and Mae gets all of a second to wonder why there’s only three of them now before the looming figure of a Sentry Titan closes the distance and slams their fist so hard into the side of her head it sends Mae sprawling, black spots dancing across her blurred vision. She grits her teeth, sits up; Mae was annoyed before, indignant, but there is little left in her mind save fury now, the cold fire of void energy writhing round her fists and under her skin as she prepares to retaliate. She can feel liquid running from her temple, and is briefly glad for the helmet hiding her face as it contorts in response to the ringing in her ears.

Mae staggers to her feet, brushing off Sena’s hands and about ready to tear apart the other fireteam, Crucible sanctions be damned when Sena and Arin get between them, the Exo with both hands on her shoulders to keep Mae steady and at a distance. Mae looks past her; for how short Arin is, the godslayer cuts an imposing figure as she stands, arms folded, staring down the three guardians all but screaming in her face, and as Mae’s hearing returns she catches snippets of words.

“-heartless bitch-“

“-what are we going to tell everyone else? She-“

“-there should be a trial, she’s a murderer!”

“-she’s a Guardian killer! She can’t be allowed back in the fucking Tower-”

“You slaughtered her, in cold fucking blood!”

“She killed her!”

**_“MURDERER!”_ **

Murderer.

Guardian killer.

The broken remains of a shattered ghost.

A dead body.

Her fault.

The void light goes out. Mae steps back. Her foot catches in the loose dirt and she falls to the ground again, and this time Sena makes no attempt to help her up. Arin remains, as steadfast and stoic as any Titan, taking the onslaught of fury and grief without comment. Nascia says something quietly, and the yells cease. Mae can’t hear it. Her head hurts. The unfortunate feeling eating away at her has disappeared, and as Mae breathes out, she comes to an uncomfortable realisation.

The death does not bother her all that much.

Mae stands, unsteady but on her feet, and Nascia plants herself between her and the other team’s hunter as they arc left to strike her, and Mae hears the snarl that leaves their mouth. Nascia doesn’t even flinch, catching the wrist that holds the knife and stopping the movement in its tracks. “Enough,” Mae hears her say, and the hunter backs off, shaking Nascia off violently and stalking back to their fireteam, cloak snapping with the movement. They huddle together with the others, Sena and Arin and Nascia a wall between them as they split, staring down Mae over Arins head.

“This is **_not_ ** over,” the Titan spits, and their voice shakes with barely restrained rage. Mae shrugs. The Titan takes a hard step forward but their teammates restrain them, and after a few more growled insults they disappear, three ships streaking across the stars. All eyes turn to Mae.

She shrugs again. “What?”

She hears Arin heave a sigh, and the three of them turn away together. “Nothing. Let’s go.”  


* * *

 

Where there is usually chatter as they fly back to the Tower, the Anisedora channel is uncomfortably silent. Mae lags behind the other three, watching the stars zip past absentmindedly and trying to think of something to say. Her stomach grumbles. ‘Well, now or never I guess,’ she thinks, steeling herself.

“So, uh, a post-win burrito is out of the question, huh.”

The sudden crack of Sena’s fist slamming into the dash over the comms makes Mae flinch.

“Traveler’s god-damn Light, Mae! You think this is funny? Y’think now’s the time to be foolin’ around? Dammit, you ignorant piece of shit, they were fixin’ to kill you too and I almost let ‘em! The hell were you thinkin’?!”

Anger flashes red hot through her. “I wasn’t fucking thinking! I was invading! It’s not my fucking fault the ghost got caught in the crossfire, so lay the fuck off!”

“So help me, if we weren’t flyin’ so close to Earth I’d knock your bird outta the sky,” Sena spits back, and the crackle of the comms tells Mae she has truly called on the stormcaller’s wrath. She blanches, hands white knuckle on the steering grip. Arin chooses that moment to pipe up; her tone is controlled and detached, but Mae knows her well enough to hear the anger behind it.

“Drifter warned us all. These aren’t Crucible arenas - the usual rules and regulations aren’t applicable in there. People have died, and will continue to die playing that game. Could of happened to any of us. Mae just got to it first.”

The comms crackle dangerously again - Sena’s arc output is increasing - and she practically snarls a retort. “How the hell can you be so calm about this?! She killed another guardian, Arin, that don’t happen every goddamn day!”

“She’s not calm,” Nascias voice filters through the static, “None of us are.”

“So what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Sena shoots back.

“Nothing, that’s what. We wait for the fuss to die down. Those guardians aren’t gonna tell anyone anything because then that means they have to fess up about playing Gambit. Mae’s good at staying under the radar. We wait and continue as if nothing happened.” Arin says this with a tone that brooks no argument. Mae rolls her shoulders, already planning.

“Off the radar, huh? Can do.”

* * *

 

Mae veers her course as they enter City airspace, and lets out the breath she’s been holding when the others don’t make to follow. The Annex is dark and cool compared to the heavy summer heat outside, and Mae rips her helmet off and half collapses on the stairs, breathing heavily. She runs a hand over her face, and the stars blink back at her, unmoved and uncaring. The world continues to turn. Indifferent.

Score floats out after a minute, arcing around her head. Mae cups her hands and the Ghost settles between them, blue optic blinking up at her. Mae sighs.

“You’re mad at me too, huh?”

Score shrinks and expands - he’s uncomfortable. “Not mad. But maybe a little disappointed.”

“Right. Y’know, somehow that’s worse.”

“Sorry.”

Mae shakes her head, running her fingers along the rim of his shell. They’re silent for a long moment, the only sound the low rumble of passing ships. After a bit, Score wriggles in her hands and Mae lets him go. He floats off a few feet, as another ship soars across the sky, casting them in shadow.

“Did you know them?”

Mae cocks her head. “Huh?”

“That warlock you- you stopped. Did you know them?”

“You don’t need to sugar coat it, Score. I killed them and that- that is just that. And no. I don’t. They were just a random fireteam Drifter threw us at. Though-“ Mae struggles to her feet, feeling heavy, “-should probably find out. If only so I know who the hell to avoid till this shit blows over.”

“To Drifter then?”

“Yeah. Stay out of sight.”

“Gotcha,” Score says, sounding tired, and disappears in a puff of blue particles. Mae feels the pulse he sends through her palm and clenches her fist as if to hold on to the reassurance.

The hunter slips down the hallway, veering off into the shadows as a gaggle of Guardians spill out of Drifter’s room. There’s four of them, at least. Mae slides in as they turn the corner towards Ada - as she enters the room she sees Drifter sink heavily back into his stool, head in his hands. Mae steps purposefully, loud enough to get Drifter’s attention; he looks up, and their eyes lock as Mae comes to an unsteady halt a few paces from him. He doesn’t get up; if anything Drifter looks as exhausted as Mae feels, and she wonders if he’s bothered by it too. Bothered about something, at least.

Drifter sizes her up, and the chuckle he gives her is low and rough. “Good game today. You’re gettin’ real good with the Delirium, glad I gave it to ya. The little god killer almost got her hands on it first.”

Mae’s mind briefly goes to Arin, but she banishes the thought before it can go further.

“Who did I kill?”

Drifter’s brows nearly jump behind his headband. “Whaddya mean?”

“That match. Who did I kill?”

Drifter pauses, never breaking eye contact, and it’s all Mae can do to hold it as the seconds tick by, hands clenched into fists.

“Does it bother you? Puttin’ an end to another Guardian?” Drifter asks, tone low and quiet.

Mae closes her eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Her fists unclench: “No. It doesn’t. But I- I think that’s what’s bothering me more. I’m supposed to care, right? It’s supposed to be a big thing, only real evil fuckers kill other guardians, right?”

She starts to pace, Drifters eyes following her back and forth. “But I don’t really care that I killed them, I just- My fireteam got mad. Real fucking mad. That’s what’s screwing me up, and it’s kinda why I came down here to talk to you-“ Mae turns on her heel to face him, “-because I honestly think you’re the only one who’s gonna listen to me right now.”

Drifter chuckles again, standing up from the stool and closing the half-step of distance that separates them. “Y’know, honesty like that’ll get you killed.”

Mae snorts. “Aren’t you always the one going on about trust?”

“You got me there,” he says, checking over Mae’s shoulder before pulling her in by the waist, “Now, forgive me if I’m makin’ assumptions, but I don’t really think you came down here to find out who you doled out a final death to. What can ol’ Drifter do ya for, sweetheart?”

“A distraction,” Mae murmurs, peering behind her into the dark hallway before turning to kiss him, “Some company. If you have time…?”

“What do you know, my awfully busy schedule just cleared,” Drifter says, voice dripping playful sarcasm, and he kisses her till their both breathless, “See you on the Derelict in twenty?”

“I think I can make that work, gonna pick up some stuff first. Did you get those blankets?”

“Aha, well, y’see-“

“Oh fuck me, Drift.” 

“Tryin’ to, Darlin’.”

“Ugh. Get moving.”


	2. but what will we do when we're sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drifter gets to thinking. as usual, it doesn't end well.

Drifter envies her.

 

Mae is so horrendously defenceless when she sleeps. Like a damn log, breathing deep and even, the bruises along her neck and hips the only evidence that they had been doing anything remotely strenuous beforehand. There’s no starts, no twitching awake in the throes of some new horror, not needing to be ready to move at a moments notice, gun in hand. No, she sleeps like the damn dead. Fitting, really. 

 

_ New blood don’t know how easy they’ve got it, _ he thinks, propped up on his elbow and watching the steady rise and fall of her back. It’s littered in scars - Fallen shock blades, he recognises the pattern -  and his hand goes out on autopilot, following the curve of her spine till it disappears under the blankets. Mae shivers, rolls her shoulders into his touch before settling again. Drifter buries his face in the hand not drawing lazy, aimless patterns on her skin, watching her between his fingers. Her face peeks out from between her arms and, in profile, he knows in his bones, can see it in hers that Mae is-  _ was _ -Reef Awoken. High ranking, had to be. There’s a regality to her, even when she’s sleeping, holds herself with that little bit of uncaring arrogance like its muscle memory. It’s disarming, how it simultaneously terrifies and turns him on. She’s scary with a scowl and beautiful with a smile, and she moves between the two like water. 

 

Drifter scrunches his eyes closed and curses.

 

_ I’m in too goddamn deep with this one.  _

 

His hand slips to her neck. He brushes ashen curls away - the bruises here are smaller, born from his tongue and teeth rather than the desperate grasp of his hands. The grey of her skin shimmers in the low light, that faint, ethereal glow shadowed over by dark spots of purple. Drifter leans down, chest against her back and breath ghosting over his marks on her, nosing up to press barely there kisses behind her ear. He’s never taken himself as the possessive type, not over people anyway, but Mae gets him like nothing else, demands he leave some indelible evidence that he was there with her, within her, that she took that pleasure-pain from him and  _ liked  _ it. Madwoman.  _ ‘Look at what you’re doin’ to me, kid,’  _ he thinks, running his knuckles up her ribs in rhythm with her breathing,  _ ‘Not even awake and you’re killin’ me.’  _ He feels her arch against him again, and  _ shit,  _ it might be time to back off already if the renewed interest his traitorous corpse is showing is any indication. Well, that, and-

 

“You’re going to wake her up.”

 

Drifter lifts his eyes to meet the blue optic staring at him, face twisting into a scowl. 

 

“Y’just gotta be a killjoy, don’tcha?”

 

“Someone has to care about my guardian’s health, since she doesn’t seem inclined and clearly you have…  _ other interests _ .”

 

“She’s a big girl, hot shot. Can handle a sleepless night or two.”

 

The ghost - Score, Mae called it - scrunches down into what could best be interpreted as a frown. Drifter flops back, throwing his arms behind his head and giving a short noise of acquiesce. “Fine, fine, ya little puritan. Not like I wanna get my rocks off with you watchin’ anyway.”

 

“Not something I want to see, either, thank you very much,” Score shoots back. 

 

The silence settles over them, prickly and tense, and Drifter stares at the ceiling without really seeing, overly conscious of the uncomfortable feeling of Score’s beady eye on him and Mae’s body pressed against his side. She’s warm. He wants so badly to curl himself over her again, if only to try and ward away the bone-deep chill that always pervades him. Wake her up, pull her into his lap and sheathe himself inside her, ride his climax blind and drown in her heat to push the constant gnawing hunger in his gut away, if only for a while. He’s selfish. But this is a selfish arrangement they have. He gets off, she gets off, he points her in the direction of money and trouble and she pulls the trigger on whatever nasty shit he doesn’t wanna deal with this time. They use each other, and so damn well. It doesn’t matter that Mae is way out of his damn league, that she laughs with a snort at his stupid quips and listens raptly to his stories, that she drags him out to dive bars and hole-in-the-walls where their small talk flows easier than the cheap drinks, that she stops by the annex at least once a week with a grin on her stunning face and kisses him practically senseless ‘just because’.

 

That he worries when she falls out of contact for longer than a week. That he gets that dread, the twisting feeling in his gut when his Primevals get too close to her. That the theme of his nightmares of late hasn’t just been the man with the golden gun putting a flaming shot through his head - she always falls first. 

 

It doesn’t matter, because they’re just using each other. Drifters swears under his breath.

 

“The hell have I got myself into, huh…”

 

“What?”

 

Drifter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Fucking ghosts. 

 

“Nothin’, squirt. Can’t you turn your little ears off or somethin’? I’m tryna think.”

 

“Yes, I’ll just ‘turn my ears off’, what are you, five? What are you even thinking of anyway that makes you say something like that?” Score’s tone is accusatory - Drifter can practically hear the ‘you’re getting my guardian into more trouble’ that the freaky little robot probably wanted to say. 

 

“None of your damn business, so quit askin’. Now take a pointer from  _ my _ ghost, shut the hell up and go the fuck to sleep, alright?” 

 

“Sure, why not, just leave her defenceless for when something goes wrong, totally a good idea. Definitely can trust her around you, not a danger at all...“ 

 

Score continues to mutter, and Drifter watches him float overhead to settle on the desk. It’s soft though, and Drifter’s used enough to noises on the edge of his hearing that he can block it out without too much trouble. His eyes slide closed. Mae shivers at his side as chill of the Derelict finally overtakes her body heat, and he stretches blindly till his fingers close around the blankets, dragging them up and over the two of them. 

 

She’s still shivering. Drifter peaks out of the blankets; Score is facing the entrance.  _ She’s cold, _ he thinks, slipping an arm around Mae to thread their fingers together, drawing her into his arms.  _ She’ll kill me if she wakes up freezing again, _ he tells himself, his chest against her back and Drifter starts to reckon that being a big spoon ain’t half bad. Her pulse thrums dutifully under his lips as he leaves the barest touch there. No mark, no pain, just something soft and secret to ease the dull and endless ache in his heart he feels he’s had all his risen life. 

 

_ It’s still using,  _ he tries to convince himself.

 

Drifter knows it’s a lie. But damn, if he doesn’t want to believe it. 

 

For her sake. 

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to think of cool dialogue abt morality and my brain did the writing equivalent of a fart noise. sorry.
> 
> mae: nightstalker, sena: stormcaller, nascia: voidwalker, arin: gunslinger


End file.
